My funny stomach and morning sickness didn't present on the departure day. Maybe I was too excited to feel it. Since we were in the airport, I could eat a cheese dog with chops of onion. I usually could not even smell onion without feeling sick (during this early pregnancy). But on that day, I could eat onion, Japanese omelet, and chicken bulgogi without puking. Psychosomatic? Maybe. Craving different kind of food? Maybe.
We flew from Nagoya to Incheon, South Korea for two hours. And then Incheon to Denpasar another six hours. South Korea looks like an interesting place from the airport. Less organized, less aware people. How would you explain what could be in these people's minds when they stood in front of that "flat-non-escalate escalator you find in airports (that allows you to come faster instead of walking)" talking to a friend, while people lining up behind them? So, these people, maybe a family- a mother, a father, and children, stood there, talking to a man, in the very middle of this thing, not moving, while people were standing behind them, wanting to pass them but they couldn't. We were two of these people. And we didn't have so much time to wait for them to finish their conversation. We had to board the plane in like five minutes before. So we decided not to use it, and instead, walking.
Being in three countries in one day, made my brain crazy. When we arrived in Korea, somehow I realized that Koreans speak English better than Japanese people. So I wasn't surprised to hear flawless English spoken by the flight attendants and also airport officers, however, I always failed to say "Kamsahamnida" and kept saying "Arigatou" instead. And when we submitted our boarding passes, Joe gave also his passport, the officer said, "We don't need passports," I thought "Hey, is he Singaporean?" I don't know why I had that thought.
Korean Air's service is good, overall. They had wine on the plane. Thanks to my seven-week pregnancy, I could not drink it, while Joe had two glasses. :( But thank God I could still eat chicken, because their chicken bulgogi was delicious.
Just before the plane was about to arrive in Bali, I waited to use to bathroom. When the bathroom door was finally opened, this lady came out, she said to me "Toiree pepa nai desu" (no toilet paper). For a second I could not decide how to answer. My brain was confused, I think. This was over Bali island, I am not Japanese and I don't think I look like one, and this plane departed from Incheon, not somewhere in Japan. And because my brain was crazy once again and seemed to work too late, I said "It's ok. Daijobu desu." (In fact, I didn't need a toilet paper, I was only going to fix my lipstick.) Maybe that lady's brain worked crazily too, like mine, so she kept speaking Japanese even though the possibility of the passengers' nationalities were varied.
Selamat Datang Di Bali
That's what I said to ourselves, "Welcome to Bali." Oh that sweet scent of flowers and incense, the beautiful carvings on the walls. And soon as we arrived in Bali, this sense of disorganizing was all over again: I knew where the lines for foreign tourists were, but I didn't know where the lines or just the line for Indonesians were or was. So I waited for Joe to pay his Visa On Arrival fee, and we had these custom declaration papers we filled in, but in the paper it says that "You only need one for one family," so we didn't know what to do. Should we in line together and where, or separated and where is my line? So I asked one of the officers there and explain, but instead of having the answer, I got "Do you need a help?" Ah, no no. I know what this means. So I said, "No, I'm okay, I just want to know where I must go." So this officer said, "Well then, it doesn't matter. Here or there is the same." So I asked another officer. He is older. And he pointed a direction where I had to go. So, I decided to wait for Joe to finish his turn, then I would go to my line. But Joe's line was too long, and the officer I talked to at first, escorted the people in that line to the other line, which was beside a line for Indonesians, the line I had to go. So I came to this "Indonesian passport" line, and talked to an officer there, explained about the custom declaration paper. My purpose was to ask where could Joe stand in. And these officer said "Ah, come in." He let Joe stand in "Indonesian passport" line, together with me. So I submitted my passport, my arrival card, and the officer on the desk then asked for Joe's. And he asked me, "Your husband?" I said, "Yes." And then after giving a stamp, he let us go. So I asked again about the custom declaration paper. He said, "That's in the baggage inspection." So, actually, in the right order, I should have been in that line I was in, Joe should have been in his own line, still! Because these immigration lines have nothing to do with custom declaration papers! Ah, then why the officers let Joe line up with me and save another hour of our time? I don't know but I was glad.
Surviving the arrival gate, we had to take a taxi. The taxi service was closed, or so the taxi drivers said. So this taxi driver offered us a service. He said that his rate is the same. So I wanted to hear his rate to Double Six, the area we are staying. He said "Eighty thousand rupiah," I said "That's not the rate. Seventy thousand," which should have been sixty thousand. My fault. But, at least, we weren't too much ripped off.
We arrived at Tune Hotel between 1.30 and 2 am, and this security guard helped us. Later I knew his name sounds like "Vincent", but spelled as "Finsen".
This hotel we are staying in, Tune Hotel, belongs to Tune Hotels chain. We pay IDR 68,000 or equals to 700 yen, or USD 7 per night. Crazy? I know. They don't have the bullshits you don't need in the room. It's fine for us. It is meant for savvy travelers. However, would be nice if they cleaned the bathroom wall a bit and fix the save deposit box.